


arriving somewhere but not here

by alienswamp



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:11:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienswamp/pseuds/alienswamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "A high school Walt/Jesse moment involving the chemistry classroom and Jesse being a punk."   Which is an accurate summary of exactly what this story contains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	arriving somewhere but not here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [biblionerd07](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/gifts).



> To my lovely giftee, **biblionerd07** : Naturally, this prompt spoke to me, and I was delighted to be your dealer. I love imagining what a little shit Jesse was in high school and will forever lament that we didn’t get a flashback of Jesse in Walt’s chemistry class. Hopefully, if you have that hole in your heart as well this will help you fill it. Happy Blue Christmeth! :)
> 
> I usually include a set of warnings for my fics. This one contains...mentions of drug use. I know, we're all shocked, this being a Breaking Bad fic for an exchange called Blue Christmeth. :) But nah, forreal--it's just high school stoner Jesse, the little shit. He's probably not even that into meth at this point, if at all. And Walt definitely...isn't. This is a silly note. Anyway, enjoy!

_i._

Jesse rolls into his first class—chemistry—on the first day of school, totally late and a little conscious he reeks. Because he just smoked some really dank shit—his first day of school bowl. He’s also got a first day of school hat, an awesome one with a big yellow puffball.

This teacher guy definitely gives him a look, but he doesn’t make Jesse take off his hat. And he’s not so late—students are still piling in. Maybe they got lost, or maybe some of them had the same good idea Jesse did. Chemistry class is going to be so much better blazed. All that shit about atoms and molecules—totally trippy.

Jesse sits in the back and realizes he doesn’t really have any friends in this class. Oh well. He’ll make friends or something. Or he’ll just skip it anyway, ‘cause he already knows he’ll be late a lot, and that’s way more annoying than just skipping. That way this guy, this Mr. White, who seems serious and old, won’t have to put up with his antics so much, because he really doesn’t seem like the type who would enjoy them.

“Chemistry is the study of change. We look at the building blocks of our world—organic, inorganic, and examine how they interact, transform.”

 _Definitely trippy_. Jesse’s gonna like this shit, he decides upon first impression.

_ii._

Mr. White is a serious actual dickbag, Jesse decides by the end of the week of school.

"All of this will be on tomorrow’s quiz, so make sure you look over your notecards, and review the textbook, because it covers a lot of the same material,” Mr. White is droning in his boring old man chemistry teacher voice, and Jesse hears the words, sorta, but has no clue what they mean. “Some of us may be on another planet, like Mr. Pinkman here, but to everyone who’s actually with us—please try to pay attention."

"I'm not high, Mr. White!" Jesse blurts, a direct rebuttal to what could only be an accusation.

"Thank you for clarifying, Mr. Pinkman," Mr. White says with his stupid smirk.

Jesse doesn’t like that kind of condescending fucking behavior. So what if he daydreams in class. So what if he doodles on all his papers. It is hard to fucking focus.

Jesse hasn’t even been to class all week and the fact that he is should be considered a triumph. This chemistry shit is literally impossible to focus on, though.

_iii._

A month passes before Jesse does not manage to slip out the door without a little after-class chat with that old douchebag Mr. White.

“Jesse, you haven’t turned in any of your work—my gradebook is full of zeroes, and as of now, you’re failing the year. You must start taking this class seriously.”

“I _am_ serious, Mr. White. _Look at my face_.” Jesse looks at Mr. White all intensely and tries hard not to laugh, but then he does.

Mr. White is so pissed about that and Jesse feels a little bad ‘cause he knows he annoys the shit out of this guy. Not that he’s gonna stop being annoying or anything.

“You know, if you don’t start taking this seriously, you’ll be sitting in summer school, retaking this class. Is that what you want?” Mr. White says.

“Yeah, whatever,” says Jesse, recalling his summer of hundreds on algebra exams. “Summer school sucks, but it’s kinda easy. Not like real school.”

Mr. White sighs. Jesse figures he makes adults sigh like a million times a day, and he wishes they wouldn’t act like they’re so super done with him, ‘cause it’s not like he’s really that difficult. Yeah, he messes with people, he challenges them, he knows he does it but he also really just wants to get through the day.

“You look tired, exhausted. Are you getting enough sleep?” Mr. White says.

“What? Uh, no, actually. I sleep kinda badly, actually, like mostly I stay up late just watching TV and then it’s like four in the morning.”

“You need to turn off the television and try to sleep.”

“Yeah, totally. I just try to nap whenever’s possible to make up for it but I guess I don’t get all the sleep at like, the time you’re supposed to sleep, so it fucks with me.”

Mr. White shakes his head.

“Jesse, I know you can do better in this class. You don’t have to fail. Do you just think it isn’t worth it to get a better grade?”

“Like, I guess, kinda, like no offense Mr. White, but I don’t really know when I’m gonna need to know like, how many carbons make up a—supercarbon.”

“If you had even been paying attention during my carbon lecture— _nevermind_ , you weren’t, but there are countless practical applications for—you know what, why should I even bother with that stuff? You’re not listening—do you really think it isn’t worth it for you to put in any effort? Into school? Into your _life_?”

“Yeah, uh, basically, like, what does it matter,” Jesse says, eyes focused on the floor. “So, since that shit isn’t worth it, I think I’m out of here.”

“I was going to tell you that you don’t have to fail, that there are a bunch of homeworks you’d just have turn in, a few projects, and you’d have to do okay on the final, but—I’m perfectly willing to help you out with it, if you’re willing to take anything seriously. If you can bring yourself to care.”

Mr. White is always going on about being serious. So are his parents. It makes him want to scream, the word “serious,” now that he’s thinking about it more.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should take your retreating hairline seriously!” Jesse shoots back, grinning again, but with a little hostility. His mind is running through what he does take seriously. It draws an unfortunate blank, which makes him feel the worst of all.

Mr. White stares, seeming as unsure about what to do next as Jesse is. Jesse stares back for a moment before deciding to get the hell out of there and making a dash for the door. He slams it behind him, hoping Mr. White feels unaccomplished with—whatever he was trying to do.

What the hell did I actually say? Jesse thinks when he’s back at his locker, far away from Mr. White’s chemistry classroom. The receding hairline insult—why had that been his response? He chuckles a little anyway. _Dude’s old._

There’s plenty of stuff Jesse takes seriously—there has to be. He’s sure of it. Plenty of things he cares about. Sure. Maybe not his grades, but he cares about things. His family? You’re supposed to care about that. But they don’t really care about him because Jake is their baby and he gets all the attention. He puts his face in his hands and kneads his fingers into his eyes and tells himself he's totally _not_ crying.

_iv._

After a parent-teacher conference, Jesse’s mother lectures him about how Mr. White “ _seems like a wonderful man—so passionate about chemistry, and he really wants you to be as excited about it as he is_.”  She refers to him as _Walt_ , which is how Jesse learns that his teacher’s first name is Walter, which is the perfect name for a boring old chemistry nerd.

Jess doesn’t want to be grounded again (not that he doesn’t always sneak out anyway, and not that he even cares that much about getting caught, but the resulting drama is always annoying).  He definitely doesn’t want his parents to cut off his allowance.  

So, at their urging, Jesse decides he’ll make an honest effort to pass—maybe.   He stays after school for this lame-ass session with _Walter White_  (which could maybe be the name of like, a comic book character, but not a cool one or anything), where he is expected to complete the homework assignments he has missed.  And the old dickbag is happy to answer any questions Jesse might have, if he struggles with the worksheets. 

Jesse’s honest effort to pass really only lasts so long.  He is quickly and easily frustrated, and worse, bored shitless.  Sitting still in this desk with nothing to do but chemistry, and no one to talk to but Mr. White, is torture.  He doodles some dicks in the margins of this worksheet on balancing equations before admitting to himself that maybe, just maybe, drawing dicks on things is slightly immature ( _it’s just that it’s still funny every time_ ).

Jesse puts down his pencil and looks up at the paneled ceiling.  He knows the panels are easy to move—in another class, he poked one with a ruler and discovered this.

"You ever wonder if... if people hide things... up there?" he says. 

Mr. White is grading papers or whatever the fuck he’s doing at his desk—always scribbling intently.  He looks annoyed at being interrupted, which pleases Jesse. "... Up there?" he says, clearly confused.

"...Yeah."

"Does this have anything to do with balancing equations?” Mr. White sighs. “Up _where_ , Pinkman?"

"You know... the ceiling..."

"Why would anyone hide anything up there?"

"I don't know,” Jesse says with a shrug.  “You know... just...the tiles move away…there’s lots of space above….just…it’d be a good place."

"Are you doing the worksheet or not, Pinkman?" says Mr. White, not even quite as amused as Jesse hoped.

"Like, if I had something to hide, that’s totally where I’d put it.  Up there."

Mr. White shakes his head.  “Jesse Pinkman,” he says. 

“ _Walter White_ ,” Jesse says back, mockingly.  “They both start with a _W_.  Do you like that, _Walt_?”

“That is called an alliteration—I suppose you haven’t paid much  attention in English either.” 

“Whatever, _Walt_ ,” Jesse says.

“It’s _Mr. White_.”

_v._

Ultimately, Jesse fails chemistry, and gets to do summer school with his friend Badger, who provides Jesse with summer school joints, in exchange for copying all of Jesse’s summer school homework.  

Years later, Jesse still has the recurring dream that he is back in high school, retaking all the classes he failed—some real, some imagined.  

In the dreams, he cannot figure out what he must do to pass Mr. White's chemistry class.

**Author's Note:**

> title is inspired by "arriving somewhere but not here" by porcupine tree. i love the song but am unsure exactly why i named the fic after it, but something about that phrase felt "right."
> 
> also, i must credit my lovely friend [angel](http://puzzlie.tumblr.com), who came up with jesse inspiring walt to hide things in the ceiling, and who helped me with a lot of the dialogue in this fic in general!


End file.
